Chapter 13 #3
He laughed softly. “The one who said the Lord’s Prayer before he was hanged—something a witch wasn’t supposed to be able to do.”
“George Burroughs?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“Okay, I haven’t a clue.”
He smiled. “According to genetic research, Walt Disney was Burroughs’s sixth-great–grandson.”
“Oh, hm. Well, I’m glad George Burroughs had kids before he was executed, since I was a kid in love with just about all things Disney!”
“Got any for me?” he asked.
“Why did Nathaniel Hawthorne change his surname from Hawthorne?”
“Easy! Because his great-great-grandfather was John Hawthorne, one of the judges responsible for the twenty people being executed for witchcraft!” Zach said. “Hey, I was one of those kids who read everything.”
She laughed softly. “Me too. But it sounds like you know more trivia than I do!”
“All right. A fellow named William Towne arrived in Salem with his wife, Joanna, in the 1630s. They had eight children altogether. I imagine it was lucky for the couple that they died before the trials—three of their daughters were accused of witchcraft; Mary Towne Eastey and Rebecca Towne Nurse were among those condemned and hanged. Only one survived in jail until after the insanity had ended. That was Sarah Towne Cloyce—and one of my favorite actors, and one of the most eloquent of all time, was one of her great-great-greats. He was her and Mary Eastey’s seventh-great–grandnephew.
And, there fore, the seventh-great–grandson of their sister, Rebecca Nurse. ”
“No clue.”
“Vincent Price! Yes, he’s been gone awhile; but thanks to the wonders of streaming, young people across the world can see House of Wax, The Pit and the Pendulum, The Raven—not to mention hearing his voice in The Great Mouse Detective—a Disney classic.”
Skye laughed and groaned. “Man, have you been studying up on this!”
“Couldn’t help myself,” he told her. “Art imitates life. Actress Sarah Jessica Parker played one of the three Sanderson witches in Hocus Pocus. And she’s the tenth-great–granddaughter of a woman, Esther Dutch Elwell, who was accused of witchcraft, but who also survived the insanity.”
“Life imitates art, art imitates life!” Skye agreed. “Wow. Hm.” She laughed. “Thankfully, my parents were both firstgeneration kids, so—”
“People move around, you know. And think of what went on in other countries.”
“I don’t really want to. But feel free to keep going with silly trivia.”
He kept it up and kept her guessing and laughing.
And being amazed by the number of known descendants who had ties back to a time of such tragedy.
And then she realized that they were arriving where they needed to be.
She pulled the car off on the embankment.
They both exited the vehicle. Once again, Skye sat on the hood.
And she realized she was grateful that he was there behind her.
She was almost always able to snap back quickly from a vision, but it was still so wonderful to have someone there—someone who understood; someone who could catch her, if her mental images caused her to fall too deep.
Once more, she saw nothing at first, just a slow drift of traffic.
Blinking, she tried again.
Night fell. The darkness, the sound of crickets, very little traffic on the road. And then …
Then a dark SUV pulled over on the side of the road. It sat …
And it sat.
And then the driver emerged.
The person appeared to be tall. Even as he leaned against the car, she thought that he was tall. But …
The sweeping black cape, the black pointed hat, the green face, and the prosthetic nose kept her from even beginning to wonder what he might have looked like without the makeup.
He waited, and waited …
Swore.
Still swearing beneath his breath, he pulled a phone from a pocket in the encompassing black cape he wore and stared down at it.
He was looking at the time. He’d been there way too long, and he realized that something was wrong.
He got back in the car.
And the SUV pulled back on the road, heading in the direction of the center of town.
“Skye.”
Zach’s voice lifted the darkness from her vision.
It was daytime again. And he was helping her back to her feet; she’d slumped down from the hood of the car to the ground and was leaning against the grille.
“Thanks!” she murmured, coming to her feet with his help. She smiled, feeling his arms.
He had really nice arms. And, of course, she knew that well now.
“Are you—”
She smiled at him. “I’m fine. And thank you. Thank you for being with me. It gives me a better feeling about … well, being me!”
“So—”
“If anything, I’m frustrated, Zach! He waited. Got bored. Got out of the car. He was angry! He was there, waiting—and waiting—and he was angry. And once again in costume. I mean, don’t they worry about people thinking that they’re deranged when they run around the city in those costumes?”
“He, he, he?” Zach queried, a brow hiked.
“Tall, the description. Possibly a woman, but more likely a man!” Skye said, groaning softly.
“Well, they get them off before they get to the city, or they go to wherever it is that they take people before they do anything else. That must be where they dress up as well.”
Skye nodded. Of course, it was Salem. But still, if they were seen by many people in such a getup, wouldn’t it surely be noted by someone, somewhere?
“Zach!” she said. “They can’t let Nick Sandoval go; and they need to make sure that someone is guarding him. He failed—and I’m afraid that the price of failure in this thing really is death.”
“I’ll give Gavin a call when we’re at the costume store. While you’re doing your thing,” Zach said.
“Maybe you should do some things. Try picking some things up?” she suggested.
“The problem with the store is that items have been touched by so many people!” he said. “But I can walk around and do a bit, too.”
“Is Mr. Howell going to be there?” Skye asked, wondering why she hadn’t checked on that important bit of information.
Apparently, though, Zach had.
“No. Gavin texted me the code; we use it to get in.”
They arrived at the store.
Zach used the code, and they entered; inside, he coded in the numbers to see that the store remained locked while they were in it.
Skye wasn’t sure where she wanted to go or what was it she was expecting to find. She walked to the little room where Sophie Howell did homework and played on school days, while her parents finished their workdays. Skye closed her eyes.
Sophie was seated on her little bed, playing with a doll she’d created from a build-a-doll kit. Her mother entered the room, looking terrified at first, then trying so hard to smile, to convince Sophie that she was fine, while telling the little girl they had to go.
Skye blinked. She knew what Sophie looked like, and she knew what Mrs. Howell looked like, but what was it here …
Skye walked back out to the main body of the store.
Zach was standing by the register.
He was holding something in his hand. He was intense, staring at it …
Seeing something.
She didn’t know whether she should let him continue, or …
As quietly as she could, she walked in his direction. He didn’t move; he just kept staring.
And he appeared to be intensely disturbed by what he was seeing.
She moved closer.
He shook his head and set the object down. It was an apple. A golden apple, with a little sticker on it, describing it.
It was a poisoned apple from a little display on Snow White’s evil stepmother.
“Zach, are you—”
He smiled. “Fine. My turn. I’m fine. I just …”
“What? What did you see? You didn’t take a chunk out of a poison apple, did you?”
He smiled.
“No. In fact, I idly picked it up. But then, I saw someone who was standing right here, holding this, holding this for a long, long time.”
“Who was it?” Skye demanded.
He hesitated. “A bad apple, I guess. Skye, it was Detective Constance Berkley.”